Hobbies- Building Life’s Resume

I looked up the definition of the word “hobby” not long ago. I was doing a bit of research for my Possession Obsession topic. Anyway, that topic didn’t really go in that direction, but I want to come back to it now. So the definition I found said “An activity or interest pursued outside one’s regular occupation and engaged in primarily for pleasure.” Given that scope, I realize I don’t actually have many hobbies. I’m good until we get to the part about pleasure. I find that most of the things mentioned below that I tried to adopt as hobbies were not all that fun.

Don’t Call Me Shirley
At the risk of sounding like a broken record, I hate to exercise. Well, once upon a time, in an effort to get some much-needed circulation to my extremities, I decided to take up ballroom dancing. I went on a friend’s recommendation and ended up taking lessons from a very sweet man who had recently lost his wife. They used to teach together, and now Jerry was soldiering on alone.
There were a couple of things that were a bit on the creepy side of this hobby of mine. First of all, the lessons were conducted in Jerry’s basement. It had been remade into a dance studio of sorts with wall-to-wall mirrors. It wasn’t a scary place so much as it was just weird to trudge out to this man’s house in the suburbs and then down to his basement once a week. Next was Jerry himself. He was easily in his 70’s. Quite spry actually for a man his age and he was a beautiful dancer. However, between the polyester pants starting under his armpits and the comb over that started on one side of his head (with white roots) to the other side of his head (coal black- just like Dick Clark), there was definitely no “cool” factor at work here. The weirdest thing was dancing the Tango with him and “crawling” up his leg. I was afraid I was going to break his hip. So, between all that and the fact that I essentially had no one else to dance with (I hate the fact that I now have Whitney Houston singing in my head), we eventually parted company. An interesting note about Jerry is that his daughter is Julie Hagerty, the actress who played Elaine in Airplane. And that brings me thismuch closer to Kevin Bacon!

This Little Piggy Had Roast Beef
I am impulsive. I understand this. I get an idea and at the time it is the greatest idea in the history of ideas. I am completely consumed by it. The good news is that my “must act now” mentality is good for about 2 weeks and then I’m done. My bookshelves are filled with damning evidence to support this. Some titles that are glaring at me right now: Learning Spanish, Playing Guitar, Fung Shui, Speed Reading, Body Language, Handwriting Analysis, Palmistry, and then of course things like car repair and assorted decorating books. That doesn’t even begin to cover the self-help section. When learning something new, I am very likely to go buy a book on it first. I’m either really curious about things, or I am gearing up for my next career as a secret agent or really strange psychic/musician/decorator that can tune up your car.

Well, then there was juggling. One of my sisters taught herself to juggle while she was babysitting her hot tub booth at the State Fair one summer. In fact, it seems a lot of people I know can juggle (right, Mimi?). Well, not me. Why not me? Surely it can’t be that hard. So off I went to buy a book. I ended up with some kit that had a book and three beanbag balls. And I practiced and practiced and practiced. And then I broke my toe. I wish I could say it happened because I got so good that I decided to forego the beanbag balls and “kick it up a notch” and juggle bowling balls, or chain saws, or midgets. No. Instead, the only thing I managed to “kick” was one of the legs of my coffee table as I was chasing one of the damn midg..er, beanbag balls. Once it was clear that juggling would soon turn into a blood sport, I decided it was time to step away. So, I still have the kit and the memories. (And sometimes I think my toe can predict the weather.) Other than that, no juggling. What really chaps my ass? The illustrations they have in the book are all of kids juggling.

I should have stuck to Airplanes
Who knows what was going on when I decided to try origami? I remember not wanting to go the traditional route as a kid with a lemonade stand and instead recruited my sisters and brother to help me with my revolutionary paper airplane stand. Can’t understand why that didn’t take off (groan). Anyway, back to origami. I’ll bet I just caught sight of a kit while in a bookstore. That’s how it generally happens. Regardless, I decided to give it a shot. Aside from making a lot of swans that resembled pterodactyls, that so-called hobby had a pretty short life span. Not one to waste the pretty origami paper, I had quite the snowflake collection on my walls come Christmas. I don’t even think I kept the book for that one. Wow.

When Overachievers Underachieve- Am I Being Graded on This?
So I am not an expert at any of this stuff. It sure does make for some interesting stories, doesn’t it? One more shining example of how failure is good for you, I suppose. Other stuff I tried and then ditched: crocheting Afghans (thank God my family has stopped multiplying), creating a web site, (creating it is no problem. I still have it; I just never do anything with it.), gardening (yeah, for like a second), and writing children’s books (haven’t given up on that one yet). Surprisingly, it doesn’t bother me to not be perfect at these things (except juggling). I figure that as long as these things don't tarnish my role as "coolest Aunt ever" then who am I to complain?

My latest kit is on balloon animals. That should be fun, right? I swear if everything I make looks like an “earthworm” I am going to be very upset. The kit says it’s for ages 8 and up. The gauntlet has been thrown…